


Never Be Your Beast of Burden

by Foxsuke (ShadowRese)



Category: Actor RPF, Captain America (Movies) RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Ladyhawke Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chris is Navarre, Curses, EvanstanBang 2015, Eventual Happy Ending, Fairy Tale Logic, M/M, Prince!Sebastian, Romance, Sebastian is Isabeau, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 09:23:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3891061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowRese/pseuds/Foxsuke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shivering against the cold, Sebastian's head snapped forward at the sound of rustling in the trees in front of him. His eyes narrowed, focusing on a shadowy figure crouched in the distance. Bursting from the underbrush in a whirlwind of white and gold fur, a large wolf bounded straight toward Sebastian, who smiled in greeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Be Your Beast of Burden

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the EvanstanBang 2015 - finished a little late, but hope you enjoy. No accompanying artwork, though.

_To lose a father that one has loved is never an easy thing, but, if in losing that father, one also loses everything they have ever known, it is even more difficult. Sebastian was eight years old when his father was killed in a jousting accident. Being a second son from a second marriage, Sebastian stood little to no chance of inheriting the throne, and his mother found she had no place at court any longer, her stepson eager to banish the woman he had always resented as usurping his own dead mother’s place._

_Fearing for the young prince’s safety, the former queen fled with the boy in the night as though the hounds of Hell were on their trail. For all she knew, they might have been. Many cold nights and hungry days later, she and her fair son arrived once more in her father’s kingdom, and King Dragoș welcomed them with open arms._

_With his grandfather's love and guidance, Sebastian slowly emerged from his shell, though the nightmares would never fully leave him - menacing shadows and whispering voices that lurked always just out of sight in his darkest dreams. But after a time, he learned to be happy again. As a woman, Sebastian's mother held no claim to the crown. Her father though, loved her dearly. Once, she had been forced to marry for advantage. This time, the king would allow her to marry for love. Thus, Sebastian’s royal tutor, Lord Fruhauf, became his stepfather. He gave the boy his love, and his knowledge. He shared with him his passion for the stars in the heavens above, taught him to look to the sky for hope._

_As much as Lord Fruhauf loved Sebastian, the old king adored him more. The boy held his grandfather's heart as no other ever had. He was King Dragoș prized jewel, and, as often is the case whenever affections are involved, Sebastian’s uncle grew jealous. He came to despise Sebastian, and his bright, eager eyes and his lilting child's voice. The prince and his greedy, ambitious, wife looked upon Sebastian's fair face, and saw the glittering happiness in the old king's eyes, and they plotted._

_Who would suspect the Prince of a deed so foul and dark? When King Dragoș fell mysteriously ill, Lord Fruhauf took his new family far from the capital, to a village on the outer reaches of the kingdom, where they would live in anonymity for many years. Sebastian would never see his grandfather again. His mother and stepfather pitied the boy, who, in the beginning, cried for months on end, but they both knew what they did, they did for his safety._

 

_\-------------------------_

_All his life, Christopher had lived in the last city on the edge of the kingdom, if it could even be called that. His family had moved there long before he was born, and he had never seen the kingdom of his ancestors. He had left Aquila only once, when he was much younger, to visit the capital city with his uncle, who was a merchant. It had been beautiful, and he and his uncle had stood outside the palace gates for hours just to catch a glimpse of the royal family._

_They had seen the king emerge and stand on his balcony, a boy only a little younger than Chris perched on his shoulders. Even from that distance, the little prince had looked shy and frightened, and in his child’s heart, Chris had wanted to rescue him._

_Weeks later, when Christopher had returned home, his brother, Scott, who was still too young for such a long journey, had questioned him incessantly about the trip. Chris told him everything he could remember, including his impressions of the young prince._

_Scott had laughed at him. “Christopher, you are foolish. Why would a prince, who has everything he could ever wish for, need to be rescued? Would that we could live in a grand castle, with servants to do everything for us and crowds to adore us.”_

_“But Scott, you did not see him. I don’t think he enjoyed being put on display, even though he was putting on a very brave show.” Scott had shrugged, before asking Christopher to tell him more of his journey to the capital, promptly putting all thoughts of the prince from his head. Christopher, however, never forgot._

 

_\----------_

On silent, bare feet, Sebastian moved through the forest. The cold air nipped at his fingertips and toes, and made his breath mist in front of his face. His pale blue eyes appeared almost silver in the predawn light.

Swiftly, he picked his way to the clearing in the wood, stopping just where the tall trees ended. Long, tapered fingers tugged at the strings of his cloak, releasing the knot with practiced ease. Sebastian shrugged his shoulders, allowing the dark cloak to slide down his bare arms, whispering over his skin. Reverently, he folded the garment over, midnight, blue-black sky folding in on itself in graceful curves and rolls, then placed it carefully on a low branch of the nearest tree. With a deep breath, he stepped out into the glade.

Any hapless passerby would surely have taken Sebastian for a wood sprite or some such otherworldly being. With slow, graceful, steps, Sebastian walked to the center of the clearing, and then raised his face to the sky. Pink and gold rays were just beginning to bleed into the cloudless sky, the sun seemingly eager to greet the cool, crisp morning.

Shivering against the cold, Sebastian's head snapped forward at the sound of rustling in the trees in front of him. His eyes narrowed, focusing on a shadowy figure crouched in the distance. Bursting from the underbrush in a whirlwind of white and gold fur, a large wolf bounded straight toward Sebastian, who smiled in greeting.

The bare-skinned man stretched his arm out to the wolf, hand curled into a tight fist, eyes averted to the side, even though he knew this particular creature very well. Before the animal could reach him, though, Sebastian felt the itching in and tingling begin in his limbs, and he shut his eyes tight against the pain. Mid-stride, the wolf shuddered, a whine coming from its direction.

By the time Sebastian was able to force his eyes open again, the wolf had rolled over onto its side, writhing in discomfort while Sebastian looked on helplessly. The space in front of the young man shimmered, images and colors blending together. The entire process didn’t last more than a few seconds, but to Sebastian, time almost came to a stand still.

When it was finally over, there was a man lying on the wet, dew-kissed grass, like an angel fallen from Heaven. Sebastian was frozen to the spot as the man struggled to his knees. Large, deep blue eyes locked with Sebastian’s icy ones, a hoarse voice choking out his name.

“Christopher-” Sebastian began in answer. He didn’t get to finish, his mouth snapping shut, his vision sharpening and fire spreading through his bones. In the same shimmering light, the beautiful body changed, and Sebastian knew no more.

 

 

\-----

 

Christopher sat at a table in the corner, tankard of ale in one hand, the hood of his dark blue cloak pulled low over his eyes. The tavern’s patrons gave him a wide berth, the hand on the great sword at his side a natural deterrent to any curious onlookers. Eyes seemed to slide over him, and away, likely worried that should they linger too long, they would be getting a closer look at that blade than would be good for their health.

It was early afternoon, and Christopher had been watching the dark skinned, laughing, boisterous man for more than an hour. The man had entered in a jovial mood, calling everyone friend and clapping strangers on the back as though he had known them all his life. He had strode up to the barman, produced a large bag of coins from somewhere in his robes and tossed a handful of coppers on the counter.

“A mug of your finest mead, for myself, and one for whoever chooses to celebrate my good fortune with me!” Chris had scoffed loudly,earning him a very non-frightened stare from the newcomer. “And another ale for the gloomy wretch in the corner as well,” the man said with a shake of his head.

Over the next few hours, the man, whom Chris learned was named Anthony, proceeded to down drink after drink with little regard for the cost. As the afternoon wore on, Anthony produced his purse several more times, and yet it was still full to bursting.

The man’s coin might not have diminished, but the same could not be said for his discretion. What had begun with Anthony’s offer of drinks for the crowd in the tavern had become loud crowing of a daring escape from the dank dungeons of Aquila. With each drink Anthony consumed, his tale grew louder, the details of his escape more outlandish and farfetched. Most of the patrons listened enraptured, oohing and ahhing in all the right places, all except one.

Anthony, for his part, was too caught up in his story and the attention of his audience to notice the small, sallow-faced little man who slipped out the back door of the establishment. Christopher, though, was not so distracted. Rising from his seat, Chris threw a piece of silver on the table, and with one look back at Anthony’s bright, brown eyes, followed the man out of the tavern.

Chris spotted the man as he rounded a corner, heading straight for a trio of guards at the end of the high street. It had rained earlier in the day, and the roads were filled with large, muddy, streaks that Chris tried in vain to step around. His cape dragged along the ground, the hem quickly becoming wet and soiled. He cursed under his breath, knowing that Sebastian would not be pleased about the mess, but he continued to watch the man and the guards. Gesticulating wildly and pointing back in the direction of the tavern, the man was relaying all that he had heard Anthony say.

Looking up at the sky, Christopher gauged the time as just before supper. That meant his hours were limited. The guards would likely make their move soon; they would want to take Anthony before the tavern became too crowded with witnesses.

Deciding that he had plenty of time, Chris set off for the inn and a quick meal. The evening would be a busy one for him, and he would need to keep his strength up. If things went according to plan with the man Anthony, Christopher would need to ride hard in the few hours of daylight he had left.

While he ate, Chris let his thoughts wander back to a cold, icy, winter day, and a boy he had almost run down in the street. Sebastian had stumbled into his life that morning, and Chris has lost his heart from that moment on. He had been the captain of the city guard then, in Aquila. And though he had not been looking for love, it had instead found him, and changed his life forever.

 

\----------

_When the person in the light traveling cloak stepped onto the path in front of him, Chris swore under his breath. Even from this distance, he could see that they were not paying attention. He tried to slow his horse, he truly did, but it was no use._

_“Hey, there! Watch out, you!”_

_Time slowed to a crawl, and Chris saw the traveler look up in surprise, and place his boot right in the middle of an icy patch. Long, leather-clad legs slid out from under the form, a young man, if Chris’ eyes did not fail him, with dark hair and pale skin. For a helpless moment, the boy pinwheeled his arms madly, scrabbling for purchase, and then, losing his battle, landed hard on his backside._

_Thanking the gods that he was an able rider, Christopher tightened his legs on his horse, and jumped lightly over the unfortunate boy sprawled on the ice. Heart racing, Christopher finally managed to slow his mount enough to leap from its back, sloppily tying the reins to a nearby post. Turning back, he sprinted to the person he had nearly run down in the middle of the high street._

_“Hello? Are you alright? Apologies, I didn’t mean to-”_

_“You didn’t mean to. And yet here I am, on the ground. And there you stand, uninjured.”_

_Chris pulled a face, slightly annoyed. “Again, my apologies. Are you injured, yourself?”_

_“Yes. No. Well, possibly. My pride, anyway,” the boy replied testily._

_“If your pride is injured, it’s not my fault. You stepped out into the road without looking.”_

_Sebastian felt his face flush red as the clumsy oaf who had almost caused his premature death looked him over. Whether it was because of the stranger’s admonition, a city guard by the look of him, or the wide, deep blue eyes set in a particularly handsome face, he did not know. When those eyes settled on his mouth, the young man realized it was hanging open and promptly snapped it shut. He shook his head to clear it, and only then noticed the guard was still talking._

_“-be more careful. And why would you wear such finery out on a day like this one?”_

_“Finery?”_

_“Yes, finery. That cloak, far too thin and light to be able to provide much warmth, and long enough to easily get tangled and cause a spill. And those boots. They look more suitable for a royal ball than a trudge through the slush and ice.”_

_No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Chris wished he could stuff them back in. The boy’s silvery-blue eyes widened in shock and hurt, and something else… wistfulness? He looked very young, and lost, and Christopher suddenly had the strange sense he knew the boy from somewhere._

_“You’re right, I am the one who should offer my apologies. I was late, and I wasn’t paying attention. Forgive me, I should be on my way.”_

_Sebastian stood, and did his best to wipe his breeches of dirt and mud. The ice on the road had begun to melt in the sun, leaving behind a thick layer of soggy muck. His cloak was ruined, and as he took it off, he hoped his mother would be able to get the stains out. Inclining his head towards the guard, he made to take his leave._

_“I am sorry, sir. I will be more careful in the future. Good day.”_

_Chris watched the boy begin to walk away with a twinge of desperation. This beautiful creature had stumbled into Chris’ path, and he was not ready to let him go. “Wait, boy! What’s your name, and where were you headed? If you would permit it, I should like to take you there on my horse. That is, if you don’t mind the ride. Riding. Me. With me, together… I mean, that is to say-”_

_The boy, it would appear, took pity on Chris, and turned to grace him with a lopsided, little smile. And in that moment, even though he did not realize it yet, Christopher lost his heart to Sebastian, who stood there with a smear of dirt across one pale cheek and a twinkle in his eye. “They call me Sebastian, and I am off to the bishop’s residence to give his niece her lessons. And I should like to ride. You and I. If you would have me. On your steed, that is.”_

 

\----------

 

Having finished his meal, Christopher left a few coins on the table before he left the inn, and mounted his horse, heading for the cover of the woods just beyond the village lines. The spot provided an excellent vantage point, where he could watch the road without being seen. He did not have to wait long.

The sound of hoofbeats reached him long before he spotted the guards, moving at leisurely pace, Anthony following behind, his hands tied in front of him, being forced to move along whether he wanted to or not.

"But good sirs, I beg you, you are mistaken. I did not escape any prison, because I have never been a prisoner. It was just a story, told for the benefit of a comely barmaid."

One of the guards laughed at him. "For a man who has never been inside the cells in Aquila, you seem to know an awful lot about its layout, and it's entrances and exits. You were overheard describing them in great detail!"

"I never said I hadn't been inside the prison," Anthony retorted.

The guard holding the tether jerked hard on the rope, causing the man to fall to his knees in the dirt. Chris watched as Anthony rose to his feet once more and gave a mighty tug, nearly unseating his captor. "I am a blacksmith. I know the layout of that prison because I forged the keys for the doors. And the shackles as well, but I was never in them!"

With a nasty glare, the lead guard snarled, "You'll pay for that!" Turning to his companions, he gestured to the trees. "We'll take him in there. No one will be there to witness, and we can leave his body for the wolves."

At that, Anthony began pulling harder on the ropes binding him, but try as he might, he could not free himself. Chris' estimation of him rose, and he knew he would not regret helping this man. “You are making a mistake, I tell you! Let me go now, and I will forget this ever happened.”

Not far from where Chris stood hidden, the guards came to a halt, one of them stepping forward to shove Anthony down onto his knees. The prisoner looked around for help, but the trees remained solemn and silent, no doubt having borne witness to crimes worse than this. Anthony continued struggling as his ankles were bound tight, cursing the guards and swearing that his ghost would return to seek vengeance on their souls.

The leader raised his sword and clobbered Anthony on the top of the head with its handle. “Enough wasting time! Kill him now,” he ordered his men.

Now, thought Chris, as he stepped out from his hiding spot, unsheathing his claymore in one clean, fluid motion. “Move away from him.”

The lead guard regarded Chris coolly, his fingers flexed around the hilt of his weapon. “I had heard a rumor you were back in these parts. I did not believe you could be that stupid. Apparently, I was wrong, Captain.”

“Not Captain anymore, Francesco. Now back away from my friend here.” As Chris stepped over the prone man’s body, he tossed a dagger in his direction. From the sounds, Anthony wasted no time in severing his bonds. “Drop your weapons.”

Hatred burning in their eyes, the guards threw down their arms one by one, Francesco being last. When they had reached their horses, he snarled at Chris. “You had better kill me, now, because if you don’t, I will hunt you down myself.”

Chris smiled, perhaps a little maniacally. “Oh, Frank, I intend to.” He raised his blade high above his head and took aim. Just before he could release the handle, a loud screech came from somewhere above the trees. The sword whistled through the air, but missed its mark, instead embedding itself in the thick trunk of a tree to the right of Frank’s head.

Swearing loudly, Chris reached for the dagger he kept in his boot, but he was already too late. The guards had made it back to their mounts and were already riding back toward the village, likely for reinforcements. “Damn them!”

It took only a moment for him to free his sword from the tree trunk. And then,turning to his own steed, Christopher pulled himself up onto the creature’s back and gathered the reins. He seemed to be debating whether or not to ride the guards down or to head in the opposite direction.

“I don’t know who you are, good Captain. But I thank you for your aid, and now I must be on my way.” The man, Anthony, turned and ran back out towards the road. It did not take a seer’s skills to know he would not make it very far before being caught. And, truth be told, Chris hadn’t rescued him for nothing. He needed the man.

With a heavy sigh, Christopher spurred his horse on, and went after Anthony. Using one powerful arm, he reached down and grabbed the other man under the arm, swinging him onto the animal behind himself. “If you value your life, you will hang on tightly and go where I take you.” Then he urged his horse back into the trees and off the main road.

“Who are you?” Anthony asked as he wrapped both arms around Chris’ middle and squeezed tightly.

“I was once known as Captain of the Guard of Aquila. But you may call me friend. Or Chris will do just as well.”

“Captain of the Guard? Aquila?” Anthony was silent for a minute, as he thought out those details. And then, “You are him, then? Captain Christopher Evans? The one the Bishop put a bounty on some years ago?”

“Aye, he is me, and I am him. Or at least I was. Now shut up, and let me concentrate. We need to find a place to rest tonight, far from the village patrols.”

Glancing up at the sky through the long, bare, reaching limbs of the trees, Chris frowned. He would not have many hours left to get them to a place of some safety. “Hyah!” he shouted, snapping the reins and urging his mount on further. Now that he had found someone who could help him put an end to his torment, he would let nothing come between him and his plans.

It was coming on an hour and half later when Chris noticed smoke rising into the ever darkening sky ahead. Silently, he offered up a prayer of thanks - he didn’t know how much longer he could have kept riding. Time was growing short.

Gently, he eased his horse from a full gallop to a slow walk by fractions, until finally, he was able to stop. “Off, now. We walk in the rest of the way. Best not to raise too many eyebrows, a thing I have seen you know little about,” he said to Anthony reproachfully.

After five minutes, the two men cleared the trees to find a small cottage, with a large, dilapidated barn behind it, a woman standing outside with an old, rusted axe in her hands.

“Are you sure you want to stop here?” Anthony asked quietly. “There is still plenty of light, we could ride on-”

“We stay here, no use blundering about in the dark and the cold.” Chris gave Anthony a pointed look, and then turned to the old crone at the door, putting on his most earnest smile. “Good evening, dear lady. My comrade and I are in need of lodging for the night. Could we impose upon your hospitality and kindness? That old barn would suit us just fine.”

When the withered woman did not answer, Christopher continued. “We can pay you, handsomely.” He turned and shoved his hand into Anthony’s robes, coming away with the bulging sack of coins, and tossed them to their hostess.

Anthony had been less than pleased when Chris confiscated his money bag, and Christopher left him grumbling in the barn while he went out to greet the fast approaching night. “Try and get some sleep, we have a long day’s ride ahead of us tomorrow.” Chris was carefully removing his cloak and brushing as much of the dirt and mud from its hem as he could. As Anthony gathered hay to make himself a bed, the captain unbuckled his sword and tucked it beneath his own bedroll.

Just before he reached the barn door, there came a loud screech, and a large bird of prey flew in through a hole in the ceiling. It circled the interior of the barn once, and then sailed down to land on Christopher’s outstretched arm. “Ahh, hello my lovely,” he murmured to the bird, a beautiful, majestic hawk.

The bird lowered its head and gently nipped at Chris’ fingertips, who only smiled indulgently. “You know you caused me to miss my mark earlier, today. Francesco still breathes because of you.”

The hawk made a squawk in answer, and ruffled his feathers indignantly. Chris laughed, and continued, “Yes, well, you were always very good at getting me to do things your way.”

Looking up, Chris caught Anthony looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and incredulity. He tilted his head in the other man’s direction. “Keep an eye on my new companion here for me, eh?”

When the bird clicked its beak and flew off to one of the rafters, Chris turned to Anthony. “Stay inside. There are things in these woods at night you should hope never to meet.” Then he slipped silently from the barn and out into the growing darkness.

 

\------------------------------------

 

“Wolf, wolf! Captain, wolf!”

Sebastian had just finished getting dressed, and was pulling the long, blue cloak over his shoulders again. It was cold out,he but had found his clothing wrapped in a bedroll near the entrance to the barn. As he was fastening the ties at his neck, the barn doors burst open, and a stranger came barrelling inside.

“Captain Evans, there is-” but the man stopped short when his eyes fell upon Sebastian. The dark haired young man looked down at himself self consciously, taking in his grey tunic, and tight, black, leather leggings that stretched over his thighs. He wondered what he must look like to this stranger, who only stared at him with an open mouth.

Pulling the cloak tighter around his body, Sebastian walked in the direction the newcomer had appeared from, a huge, heavy sword dragging behind him along the ground.

“Wait, sir! My lord, don’t go out there! There’s a wolf, biggest, meanest beast you ever saw!”

Sebastian’s red lips curved into a smile. “I know.”

“But, my lord, stop!”

Paying the man no heed, Sebastian calmly strode out of the open doors, the sounds of snarling greeting his ears. The wolf the stranger had spoken of stood over the body of a dead soldier, blood staining its paws and muzzle a bright red that was visible in the moonlight. The animal’s ears pricked up, and it left off with its vicious sounds.

Like a favored pet, the wolf trotted to Sebastian, who held his fist out for the creature to inspect. Then, the animal whined softly, and opened its jaws. Behind him, Sebastian heard the stranger cry out a warning, but the young man paid him no heed. He smiled as the wolf stretched out a very long, very pink tongue and began to lick his closed hand.

With his other hand, he reached out to scratch the huge white and gold wolf behind his ears. The creature growled contentedly, and leaned its head into Sebastian’s touch.

Mumbling from over his shoulder caused Sebastian to turn away from the wolf, and he caught sight of the stranger who had attempted to warn him. The man was shaking his head from side to side, as though to disavow what he was seeing. “Maybe I’m dreaming. Yes that’s it, I must be dreaming. But I don’t feel like I’m asleep. I can feel the cold, the ground beneath my hands…” More incoherent words tumbled from the stranger’s mouth.

Sebastian turned his most charming, alluring smile on the man, the one that brought Chris to his knees, willing to do anything Sebastian asked. “You are dreaming, you’re asleep now, only you don’t know it.”

The man climbed to his feet and stumbled back into the barn, gesticulating wildly, before grabbing a large flagon of wine from inside his pack. Sitting down hard on the dirt floor, he raised the jar to his lips and drank long and deeply, so much and so fast there was no way he could swallow it all, and red rivulets ran down his chin like the blood that still dripped from the wolf’s jaws. When he was finished, he collapsed to the floor and slept like the dead.

 

\----------

 

The morning had dawned wet and grey, and certainly not a good day for traveling. Chris, however, did not seem affected by the weather in the least. By the time he had woken Anthony, Chris had already packed the bedrolls, refilled his waterskins, and loaded his horse.

“Time to wake up.” He nudged Anthony none too gently with his boot, and dropped a few hard, crusty rolls wrapped in a checkered cloth on top of the other man’s chest. “The old woman was kind enough to part with these in exchange for your last wineskin.”

Anthony groaned, and attempted to sit up three times before Chris huffed loudly and decided to help. When the other man was finally sitting, Chris walked outside to the well and brought up a bucket full of cool water. He dipped a tin cup in and carefully carried it back over to Anthony, who downed it gratefully, and then motioned for another.

Once he had drunk his fill, Anthony fixed Chris with his large brown eyes. “You gave her my wine?”

Chris laughed, and answered, “Tell me, how is it that a man should carry with him two jugs and three wineskins, and yet, no food? Now hurry and eat those, East is growing impatient.”

“East, Captain?” “My horse. Hurry, he won’t wait much longer.”

The two men had not been riding long when Anthony began speaking. “Captain, did you see the wolf last night?"

Chris sighed heavily. “I told you already, I am not a captain anymore. My name is Chris.”

“Yes, I know, but Chris, did you see the wolf? The one who killed the guards?”

“No, I didn’t, I’m sorry. And speaking of being outside, how did you come to see this wolf? If I recall, I asked you to stay inside the barn.”

Anthony chose to ignore that last part of Chris’ statement, instead going back to the topic of the great beast. his voice growing more excited as he continued on rapidly. “It was huge, with very sharp teeth that tore through flesh easily. I thought for a moment it might even kill me. Until the man appeared out of nowhere and calmed the beast.”

Swallowing roughly, Chris somehow managed to find his voice. “A man, you say? What did he look like?”

“He was beautiful, tall, dark haired, with fine, porcelain skin, and wide, blue eyes. And his voice, Captain! He spoke in the sweet, melodious tones of an angel.”

“He spoke? What did he say to you?”

“He told me I was dreaming, but I know I wasn’t. It happened, I swear it.”

“No, I believe you. I believe in dreams.”Chris was silent for a moment, waiting to see if his new friend would speak again. When he did not, Chris asked a question. “This beautiful man, did he by chance have a name?”

Anthony tilted his head to one side. “No, I don’t think so. Or at least if he did, he didn’t give it to me. Why do you ask?”

Unable to keep the yearning out of his voice, Chris answered sadly. “If he were to wander into my dreams, I should like to be able to call him by his name. I’ve been waiting for a man like him for many years now.”

 

\----------

 

_Young love is one of the most beautiful feelings one can ever experience. It is special, and it is carefree. But, it is also passionate and reckless. It can make one do things,or say things they normally would not. And sometimes when hearts are opened, secrets spill out._

_On a beautiful, starlit night just before spring, when the whole world was on the cusp of being born yet again, Christopher poured his feelings out to his young lover. “I love you, Sebastian. More than anything on this earth. I am yours, forever, if you will have me.”_

_Chris felt Sebastian tense in his arms. The younger man lowered his head and refused to look up for several long seconds. How stupid of me. though Chris. I should have known that he could never feel for me as I do for him. He is beautiful, and refined and of a different class. He cannot love me. “I should not have… apologies. Please forget I have said anything. I can take you home now if you want.”_

_The young men were in a small garden shed in the field behind the church, the only place they could have any privacy. None of the priests ever visited the place at night, or so they thought._

_“Hush. I love you, too, Chris.” Sebastian touched their foreheads together, but did not speak yet. Chris was nervous and afraid that whatever the other man was gathering the courage to say would not be anything good. After a few long, interminable seconds, Sebastian began to speak haltingly. “I do love you, Chris. You must know that. I never imagined that I would find someone like you, and least of all that that person would love me back.”_

_“Sebastian-”_

_“No, let me finish. There is something I must tell you. Because you love me, I have to say this to you because you deserve honesty, and because I love you, I can tell you my secret, because I trust you with my life. My parents made me swear not to ever tell anyone who I really am. If anyone ever found out, I would be in danger they said.”_

_.Chris stared at his love in wide eyed horror. “You’re beginning to frighten me. If what you say is true, perhaps you had better not tell me. Not because I don’t want to know,” Chris continued quickly. “It’s only that I do not want you to come to any harm because of what you are about to say.”_

_“Nothing will happen to me. Now stop talking, and let me finish what I began to say.” Sebastian took a deep breath, and fixed his eyes on the brightest star in the sky. “I am not the son of a simple country tutor and his wife.” “I was born Prince Sebastian, second son of a king from a neighboring land, and grandson of King Dragoș of Constanta. My mother is a princess, and only royal blood flows through my veins.”_

_Surely Sebastian must be playing a terrible joke, and Chris did not find it to be a particularly funny one. If it were true, then Chris deserved to meet his maker on the gallows for his thoughts alone. “Why would you say this?”_

_“Because it’s true! I came here to tonight to be with you, to give my body to you as freely as I have given you my heart. When you hold me, I want you to hold me, and not the lie. Please…” Silent tears were falling down Sebastian’s beautiful face, sparkling drops of pain that caught the light and meandered slowly down to splash upon his doublet._

_“But then why are you here? Why are you not in some faraway castle in the capital?” Chris voice drifted off and his eyes took on a glazed, distant cast. “You,” he whispered. “It was you, all those years ago. On King Dragoș’ shoulders.”_

_It was Sebastian’s turn to look confused. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m sorry.” “Years ago, I visited the capital with my uncle. He took me to the palace and we stood outside the gates for hours. In the afternoon, the king appeared with his daughter at his side, and a little boy perched on his shoulders. My uncle said it was the little prince. I remember thinking he was so beautiful, but also very sad.”_

_Sebastian sighed forlornly. “Yes, that sounds like me. My grandfather loved me, and wanted only the best for me. I remember he took me out that day because he said he wanted me to see how loved I was, and that someday, when I grew older, I would have a responsibility to all those people to show them that I was worthy of that devotion.”_

_“Now that I think back on it, there lies the answer to your question about why I am here. That day, I saw my uncle look at me as though I were something unwelcome in my own home. I do think he feared I was going to usurp his rightful place on the throne.” ._

_It did not matter that Sebastian hadn’t wanted that. What did matter was that his uncle had decided Sebastian was an obstacle in his path. That was the reason his family had run away, to keep Sebastian safe from harm. It was why he still had nightmares at least once a week. His uncle was childless, and it had been rumored that he was ill, too much drink and other indulgence had left him with very poor health indeed. If the king died before producing an heir, the throne would rightfully be Sebastian’s to take._

_“I- Sebastian,” Chris stood up and took Sebastian’s hands in his own, pulling the younger man into a standing position. Then, he sank back down to one knee, his head bowed low, and Sebastian’s hand still clasped in his own. “My Prince,” he began._

_“Oh, no, Chris stop-”_

_“Let me finish. My Prince, on this day I pledge to you my undying loyalty and love. I promise to keep you safe from anything that would cause you harm. From this day forward, I am yours to command. Anything you ask of me, I shall do.”_

_“Anything?” Christopher did not speak, but nodded his head in assent. He felt more than saw Sebastian lower himself to his knees as well. Strong, slender fingers tilted his chin gently upwards, and his eyes met Sebastian’s glittering, wet ones. “Then kiss me, Christopher.”_

_And he did._

_Yes, young love is one of the most beautiful, pure feelings one will ever experience. It is special, and it is carefree. But, it is also passionate and reckless. It can make one do things,or say things they normally would not. Sometimes when hearts are opened, secrets spill out. And sometimes, those secrets are heard by those would use them to do harm._

 

\----------

 

On the second day of traveling together, Chris found himself becoming more open with Anthony. The man had an easygoing nature, and was always ready with a jest or a smile. He knew it was time he tell Anthony exactly what it was he wanted from him, and hoped that after hearing what he had to say, the blacksmith would choose to aid him in his quest.

As they sat on a log near the edge of the woods, sharing an early supper, Chris made his desires known. “You see this sword?” Anthony nodded, his mouth stuffed full of fish Chris had caught in a nearby stream. “It has been in my family for generations. Each new owner has used it to fulfill a special quest, a mission. Mine is to kill the Bishop of Aquila.”

Bits of fish flew out of Anthony’s mouth as he choked and sputtered. “Kill the Bishop? Are you mad? And you’re taking me along with you on your way to commit suicide? No, apologies, but this is where we say goodbye!”

“No one will ever know you were with me. I only need you to open the gate to the prison below the cathedral, the one that leads out to the sewer. The high holy days will soon be upon us, and the bishop will mark the occasion by hearing confessions himself as he does every year. It’s my only chance to find him not surrounded by his personal bodyguards. You are a blacksmith, no? I know you must have a key.”

“How do you know I have a key?”

“Any blacksmith worth his forge makes a copy of each key he fashions.”

Anthony snapped his mouth shut, and looked at Christopher with a mix of anger and fear. “Why do you want to kill the bishop?” he finally asked.

The former captain responded by growling, and hurling his great sword at the nearest tree, embedding the blade deeply in its trunk.

“I’ll just go and gather some wood for the night’s fire, shall I?”

 

\----------

 

Sebastian was hungry; he could not even remember when he had last had a proper meal. The road he was traveling was not familiar to him, but it was cold, and wet and generally unpleasant. But there was a rabbit hiding in the thicket across from where he sat, and he was determined that he would catch it, and make it his dinner.

With the stealth of a true predator, Sebastian slunk forward, keeping his body low to the ground, his breaths even and still, the light of the moon the only illumination for his sharp eyes. He had almost reached the unfortunate animal when he heard a hissing voice from somewhere up above.

“Milord! Sir!”

The rabbit bolted from the brush at the same moment that Sebastian turned his head up and back. “Damn.”

“Good sir, do you remember me?”

“Yes, of course I do. You were dreaming the other night. What are you doing up there, anyway?” Sebastian’s irritation at losing his supper had vanished, replaced instead by his insatiable curiosity, one that had certainly gotten him into his fair share of trouble in his young life.

The man looked panicked for a only a moment, but he covered it quickly, answering Sebastian’s question with a lie thought up on the spot. “The guards, they came looking for me, so my friend tied me up in this tree so I wouldn’t fall down while he led them away. He told me he would double back and release me, but I should not like to wait so long.”

One dark, perfectly shaped eyebrow arched upward, and Sebastian’s red lips quirked upwards into a smirk. “And?”

“And I was hoping you could help me down? Please, good sir?” Sebastian sighed softly; he could always be counted upon to cave in when someone asked him nicely. He was kind to a fault, and could see no way to refuse the stranger in the tree. “I suppose so.”

As he climbed the tree to cut the ropes binding his new acquaintance, the man thanked him profusely, promising to return the favor should Sebastian ever find himself in need. “You’re very kind sir, and I would be glad to repay you sometime in the future.”

“If you can find me, that is.” And with that, the man leapt from the tree, and ran off through the trees, calling out behind himself, “And tell Captain Evans he ties a devilish knot!”

Throwing his hands into the air, Sebastian sank down onto the damp grass. “He’s going to murder me. And for good reason, too.”

 

\----------

 

A whole day’s progress, wasted. Chris was following Anthony’s trail, picking his way through the forest in search of his unwilling quarry, thanks to Sebastian. Much as he would like to be, though, he could not stay angry with his beloved. The fault was his own really. Chris knew he should have controlled his temper better, should have told Anthony the whole horrible truth about himself, and Sebastian, and begged the man for his help.

But what was done was done, and really, could he have expected Sebastian not to help a person he perceived to be in need? That kindness was only one of the many of Sebastian’s qualities that had caused Chris to fall head over feet in love. Still, it would have been better if he had displayed a little less goodwill in this case.

All the way back, Chris brooded and worried. Would he find Anthony? And how would he convince him to help?

“Captain! Go back, it’s a trap!” Anthony’s deep, loud voice rang out through the trees, followed by the sounds of a scuffle.

Not hesitating for a second, Chris plunged forward, towards the sound of the shouting, great sword gripped in his outstretched hand. The hawk’s shrill cry sliced through the air, just as Chris’ blade sliced through his enemies’ flesh and bone. The skirmish was over almost as soon as it had begun, the guardsmen being no match for Chris’ superior strength and fighting skills, a victory.

Only there, on the ground, a dark red spot growing steadily beneath it, lay the hawk. The beautiful bird flapped its wings uselessly, a crossbow bolt sticking out of its body. Vaulting from his horse, the captain tossed his weapon aside and ran for his companion.

“No! No, no, please, no.” He knelt beside the bird, almost too afraid to touch, his large, clumsy hands sure to make things worse. His blue eyes stung with the tears he struggled to hold back, and he felt a rushing in his ears that drowned out the rest of the sound in the world.

When a hand touched his shoulder, Chris looked up to see Anthony staring down at him worriedly. “Captain, you’re bleeding.”

“Never mind me,” Chris groaned. “Hawke...” He gestured weakly at the bird as it thrashed about on the hard ground, each movement becoming yet more pitiful.

“Oh, Captain, I am sorry. The poor thing-”

“Quickly!” Chris snapped. “Bring me a cloth from my saddlebag. I am going to remove the bolt, you will need to bind the wound.”

Anthony returned with a piece of torn cloth and handed it to Chris silently, looking at him as though he had lost his mind.

“Here my darling. You’ll be alright, everything will be fine.”

“But sir, that bird is done for. Surely it would be kinder to put it out of its misery, don’t you think?”

Chris pulled the bolt from his dear hawk’s breast, snarling at Anthony as he did so. “Don’t you dare say that. He cannot die!” He tried to stand, but found that his legs could not hold him. The treacherous ground spun in circles beneath his feet, determined to fell him.

A sharp pain in his side forced him to look down. Chris pressed a hand to his waist, and raised it in front of eyes, fingers now wet and sticky with blood. “Help me, Anthony, please.”

And then strong, sure, arms were holding Chris upright, helping him back to his horse. He put as much effort as he could into walking, putting one boot in front of the other, but he knew he was of very little use. Somehow, miraculously, Anthony managed to get him onto East’s back.

He must have passed out, because when he opened his eyes, the trees were moving beside him. No, that wasn’t right, the trees weren’t moving, he was. “I’ve got you, Chris. Both of you,” Anthony finished before Chris could open his mouth. “I’ve got you. You’ll be fine. Rest now, close your eyes, Captain.”

 

\---------

 

When Sebastian woke that night, he found himself lying on a stone bench, the rough surface scraping his skin when he moved. He sat up and shivered, bare feet turning to ice the second they touched the cold flagstone.

Sebastian’s blue eyes took in the room around him. It was large, and mostly empty, except for a few other benches and a raised dais in the front, old and cracked. An abandoned temple, then? He hadn’t seen the inside of one since the night he left home for good, his mother pressing a bag of coin they couldn’t spare into his hands, kissing him on the cheek and whispering in his ear. _“Fi curajos, fi atent, Prinţul meu. Te iubesc.”_

 

“Are you flesh, or are you spirit?”

 

Turning his head around slowly, Sebastian came face to face with the stranger from the other night. “I am... misery,” he answered softly, honestly.

The stranger apparently did not know what to say to that, and instead handed him a blanket wordlessly. Sebastian thanked him, and drew the blanket tight around his naked form. His fingers traced over the puckered, silvery-pink line of skin that ran down his left shoulder. That hadn’t been there last night. That could only mean…

“Chris?” he asked when he finally found his voice.

“He’s alive, or at least he was an hour or so ago. I left him sleeping on one of these benches while I went to gather wood for a fire, but when I came back, both he and the hawk were gone, and you were left in its stead.”

Sebastian nodded his head, and did his best to smile, even though he was sure it came out more like a grimace. “Who are you?” he asked the stranger.

“My name is Anthony. I am a blacksmith by trade.” Anthony seemed to hesitate, and then asked, “It’s him, isn’t it? Chris is the wolf, somehow?”

“He is.”

“But how?”

Whistling low, Sebastian fixed his eyes on Anthony. “You might want to sit down. The story I am to tell you is a fantastical one, but it is the truth. I swear it on my mother’s life.”

And so while Anthony built them a fire, Sebastian spoke. He started his tale at the very beginning, with a mad escape in the dead of night, and ending with the same thing. “We didn’t know he was there that night, that he had overheard us. He was the bishop - why would we think he would be out meeting one of his pretty boys in that spot?”

“He went to my parents the very next morning with an ultimatum. Wed me to him, and he would keep my secret, and even help put me on the throne once my uncle died. Or refuse him, and he would turn me over to face life in a dungeon, or worse, execution. He didn’t love me, you see, only desired me because he thought me beautiful and useful to him. I was the bishop’s key to power, and he had decided that none other than him could possess me.”

“My parents asked for a few days to discuss it with me. But they didn’t. Instead, my mother asked me if I was in love with Chris, and when I told her that I was, she went straight to Mrs. Evans and told her the truth, and between the two of them, they made all the arrangements for Chris and I to escape safely. They both knew how much we loved each other, and that Chris would kill the bishop before he would let that man take me against my will.”

“Two nights later, after our secret ceremony, we said goodbye to our families, and rode out of town, thinking never to look back. It was the third time I’d been forced to run for my life. Only this time, the bishop and the guards were waiting for us in the next town. He did not kill us, no. That would have been far too merciful. He was evil, you see, and drunk on power, and the mad quest for more.”

“He cursed us then, to live apart for the rest of our days. You have seen for yourself how well it has worked. By day, I am the hawk you brought to this place, and at night, the howl of the wolf you hear is Chris. And we’ve been that way ever since, never able to hold one another again, save for one agonizing moment each day at dawn and dusk, when we can almost touch.”

When Sebastian finally finished speaking, the only sounds were the raindrops hitting the cracked ceiling, and his tears that splashed to the stone floor, one sound indistinguishable from the other. Anthony remained silent for sometime, clearly unsure what to say.

Finally, clearing his throat, he said in a low, thick voice. “It is no wonder then that the Captain wishes to see the bishop dead. That’s what he wants me for, you know. To sneak into the dungeon beneath the bishop’s little castle, and let him in from the outside.”

Sebastian laughed mirthlessly. “I’m surprised he’s waited so long. The curse can’t be broken, you see. We would have to both stand before him on a day within a night or some such nonsense. Would it not be better simply to end the emptiness? If it weren’t for him… I don’t want to leave him alone. But I am tired.”

Having run out of things to say, Sebastian sat quietly on the bench, and thought about what it would mean if Chris did manage to kill the bishop. They would both be fated forever to this half-life. Hopelessness, despair, never-ending anguish. In the beginning, Sebastian had held fast to hope, but after five years, well, even he had to admit that well had long since run dry. He would cry, if he had any tears left.

 

\--------------

 

Morning rose, and Chris approached the old monastery cautiously. The place was dreadfully depressing, with its battered doors and cracked steps and broken windows. It had been through too much, borne witness to many unpleasant things in the time of the new king. Chris sympathized; he felt much the same.

“Captain! There you are!” Anthony ran down the stone steps, and came to meet Chris at the end of the path.

“Anthony.” The once-captain held out his hand. “I should thank you, for saving my life, and my-”

“Sebastian’s life. I know, Captain. He told me everything last night,” Anthony answered, taking hold of Chris’ outstretched forearm, clasping it tightly, as a true friend.

“And?” Chris awaited Anthony’s answer with bated breath.

“I will help you.” The blacksmith held up one hand. “But, you should know, I don’t think he can go on like this much longer. He spoke of ending it last night. I’m certain he did not even realize he had spoken aloud, but he did say it. If you are killed doing battle with the bishop’s guards, then he will die too. Even if you survive, once the bishop is dead, the curse will become permanent. You will lose him, Captain.”

A single tear slid down Christopher’s face. “I already have.”

 

\-------------

 

Opening the prison gate was the easy part, and Anthony carried it off without a hitch. Hopefully no one would take notice of Christopher in his wolf form, think him nothing but another hungry stray roaming the streets of what had once been an idyllic little hamlet, now gone to seed along with the rest of the bishop’s mind.

The more he thought about this, the more he knew it was a terrible idea. He would not try and dissuade Chris, because damn if the man didn’t deserve to get his vengeance. But Anthony really did not want to lose two friends this day. Because that is what would happen. Chris would face the bishop and he would die, and Sebastian would never forgive either of them.

The young man, no the Prince, knew what they were going to do, and he had been strangely subdued as he and Anthony had ridden on East’s back, Chris walking along beside them as the wolf. He was silent, and contemplative, and Anthony would have given all the coin he had ever possessed to know his friend’s thoughts.

When the first rays of the sun peeked out over the skyline, Anthony watched in fascination as the wolf seemed to glow from within, until the light was too bright for him to continue looking.

“Toss me the pack.”

Chris hastily pulled on his clothes, strapped his weapons on, and determinedly moved toward the cathedral. Somewhere, in an empty stable on the edge of town, Sebastian had missed his last chance to look upon Chris’ face. The former captain almost expected to hear his beloved’s cry any moment, but he could not linger in this place for long. Pulling his hood low over his face, Chris marched toward his destiny.

Soon, too soon, Chris found himself slinking along a lonely passage to the confessionals. From behind a thick, velvet curtain at the front of the hall, he waited, watching as people came and went from the booths, the line growing steadily shorter. Just before the main doors were to be closed, Anthony slipped inside, taking his place at the end of the line of penitents.

The minutes dragged on interminably, each seeming to drag on endlessly. Chris’ palm itched where he held his blade. He thought of Sebastian, now with only East to keep him company. Did he even now fly somewhere over the town, glorious wings holding him aloft in a cloudless sky? So beautiful, in any form he took, breathtaking. Chris counted himself fortunate to have had such a love, even if only for a little while.

A low whistle interrupted his musings, and Chris looked up to see Anthony stepping into the box, nodding his head in silent signal. _Now._

Taking one last look around, Chris ensured there were no last guards nearby. There weren’t; they were all outside the oaken doors, turning away any stragglers who had not made it into the temple in time to speak with the bishop. Good. Chris did not wish to have to kill men who were simply doing the best they could to feed their families in these troubled times.

With the confessional booth set in his sights, Chris sprinted forward lightly, boots barely touching the ground. At the door, he drew his blade, and listened for a moment to Anthony speaking softly.

“I coveted something that was not mine, Your Grace. I let my desire for this thing cloud my judgment, and I committed terrible acts in my quest to possess it, hurting innocent people in the process. I do not deserve to be forgiven.”

The Bishop, cynical, hypocritical, shameless bastard, was not perturbed in the least. “The Lord of Life forgives all, my child. Even the most devout among us can make mistakes.”

At those words, Chris unlatched the door, and pointed his blade at the bishop’s throat. “And you, Your Grace, have made your last. Out. Now.”

The bishop’s beady, piggy eyes darted from left to right, his mouth working furiously. Thick, gnarled fingers tugged his robes tighter around his body. “Quickly, my son, run for the guards. Tell them there is a brigand and a thief in the church.”

Bursting out of the tiny stall, Anthony looked upon the scene with disgust. “There is only one man here who has tried to take something which does not belong to him, and that man is you, sir. Now do as the Captain says, and come out here.”

Having no choice but to comply, the bishop stood and crept out of the booth. The tip of Chris’ great sword was held against his chest, a warning to remain silent, or be killed.

“You cannot kill me,” the bishop hissed. “If you do, the curse will remain in place forever. Think of Sebastian, Evans!”

Chris growled low in the back of his throat, sounding every bit like the wolf he became every night. “Don’t say his name! And I am thinking of him. How much longer can I expect him to endure this torture? I swore to protect him, and I failed, because of you. If nothing else, at least he will know you have paid for what you’ve done to us.”

No sooner had Chris finished speaking did the bishop flick his fat hand, causing a candelabra on the altar to fly out and strike the captain in the back. Taking advantage of Chris’ momentary surprise, he ran towards the door, shouting as he did, “Guards! Help! I’m being attacked!”

Commotion could be heard from the other side of the wooden doors, and a second later they burst open, a whole string of soldiers pouring in and surrounding the former captain. The bishop sneered from his spot near the door. “When they kill you, know that I will stop at nothing to find Sebastian, and make him mine. He will submit to me, one way or the other.”

“Captain!” Anthony was shouting at him from across the hall. He had pulled a dagger from somewhere and was brandishing it at the guards. “Look!” He gestured at the open door, and the shadow that could be seen moving across the courtyard outside. Chris chanced a glance up, and saw a sight he had never expected to behold. A darkness was passing over the sun, so that it seemed to be both night and day at once.

“This is it, Captain! A night within a day, and a day within a night! It’s happening.”

 

\----------

 

On the other end of town, in a dirty, abandoned stable, Sebastian found himself lying naked on the floor. Everything felt wrong, like he wasn’t himself. And the light was wrong, too bright for night, but not bright enough for daytime, either. Crawling on his hands and knees, he cried out for Anthony. The only answer he received was the soft stamping of East’s hooves from his corner stall.

“East? Where are they, boy?” Sebastian dragged himself over to the horse, reaching into the saddlebags for something to cover himself with. Chris’ dark blue cloak was missing, but he did find some breeches and a shirt, and boots.

As he dressed, he could hear the clanging of alarm bells. Throwing open the doors to the barn, he nearly fell to his knees at the sight that greeted him. The sun seemed to have been blotted out, a black disc covering it almost entirely, only a thin, fiery, ring glowing around an otherwise emptiness.

 _Day, or night or both?_ , Sebastian thought. And then, _Chris!_

Running back to East, he tripped over a leftover farm tool, righted himself, and struggled to climb onto the horse’s back. “Go, boy! Come on, East, ride!” He dug his heels sharply. He would apologize to the animal later, if they made it in time.

The only thought in his head as he raced through the streets was Chris. Sebastian could only hope that he made it before it was too late. If Chris killed the bishop, it would be over. Luckily, he remembered the way to the temple, though even if he hadn’t surely the deafening ringing of the bells would have guided him.

People jumped out Sebastian’s way, and he called out hasty apologies to the them. Almost there! The horrible, earsplitting clamor grew louder than he would have thought possible.

“Up!” he shouted at East, who flew up the steps to the cathedral in a black flurry. His hoofbeats pounded the stone stairs, and the animal burst through the open doors, rearing up on his hind legs as Sebastian held on for dear life. The Prince could hear Anthony bellowing.

Sliding, landing on his feet, stumbling, Sebastian’s heart leapt into his throat. Chris stood only a few yards from him, chest heaving, bleeding from at least half a dozen cuts, dead and wounded guards strewn in his wake. His blade was pointed straight at the bishop’s gut, while Anthony held off two more guards with a knife.

“Chris?”

 

\----------

 

All eyes immediately turned to the sound of that voice. There, framed in the ethereal glow of the eclipse, Sebastian stood. Pale skin, red lips, dark, tousled hair, a vision Chris had not thought to behold again in this life. “Sebastian?”

His beloved nodded his head, eyes impossibly wide and young looking. Chris could hardly bear to turn away, but he forced himself to face the bishop. “Look at him,” he commanded, and when he did, it was easy to see how he had become Captain of the Guard at such a young age. His presence demanded respect, and obedience.

The bishop grudgingly swung his eyes up to look at Sebastian, a sickening, filthy smile spreading across his thick lips. Chris wanted nothing more than to murder him on the spot.

“Now look at me!” he shouted. He ran to Sebastian’s side, one strong arm sliding around his slim waist, gripping his hip tightly. “Look at us.”

The bishop refused to make eye contact with Chris. “I said look at us! Together!”

A strange tingling sensation began in Chris’ fingers and toes, like a cold fire spreading quickly from his extremities straight to his very heart. He knew Sebastian must have felt it too, for he shivered in Chris’ embrace.

“It’s over,” Anthony marveled. “The curse is broken.”

Chris dropped to his knees beside Sebastian, felt long, graceful fingers run through his hair. He pressed his face against Sebastian’s middle, crying openly, tears soaking through the thin fabric of the shirt. Tugging on his beloved’s arms, he pulled him down with him, both men kneeling on the cold, hard floor and feeling nothing but happiness for the first time in many years.

Just as he was about to press their lips together, he heard Anthony’s warning cry. Chris raised his head just in time to see the bishop readying to hurl a dagger at Sebastian’s back, the tip black and sticky with something that smoked.

“No!” Chris roared. He pushed himself to his feet, moving Sebastian out of the way. The captain raised his sword, and threw it with all his strength.

A shriek rent the air as the blade pierced the bishop’s chest, the force pushing him back and pinning him to the altar. Blood seeped into the bishop’s robes, staining them a deep crimson. “Sebastian,” he croaked, before his eyes went blank and his head fell slack.

“Chris, oh Chris, my love.” Sebastian had gotten to his feet and pulled the captain into a crushing embrace.

“I love you, Sebastian. My Prince, I love you.” Chris lifted Sebastian, who quickly wrapped his legs around Chris’ body and kissed him deeply, both of them smiling and laughing and crying into the kiss. The former captain could feel his heart soaring, the blood in his body heating quickly.

When he finally put Sebastian down, the dark haired man turned to look for Anthony. “Anthony, come here.”

Their friend approached slowly, a wide smile on his face, his eyes twinkling. Chris let go of Sebastian long enough to grasp Anthony’s arm in gratitude. “Thank you, my friend. For everything.”

Anthony nodded, too overcome with joy for his friends to speak. Sebastian grinned slyly, and stepped away from Chris to place a kiss on Anthony’s smooth cheek. Then he faced Chris once more, and wrapped his arms around the captain’s neck, knowing that this time, they would never have to let go.

 

_Fin_

 


End file.
